


Day 2 - Naked Kisses

by WorkInProgress84



Series: NSFW Challenge [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 23:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorkInProgress84/pseuds/WorkInProgress84
Summary: All Combeferre wanted was a shower to start his day. Instead he got a naked Courfeyrac. Things could have been way worse.





	Day 2 - Naked Kisses

“Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot.”

Combeferre kept on chanting under his breath as he weaved between tents as fast as his flip-flops would allow. He almost dropped his towel and his change of clothes when he took too sharp a turn but after a mad, utterly undignified fumble, he managed to keep his grip on everything.

The first week back at camp was always the same, he thought, shaking a pebble from under the sole of his foot. That's how long it took to get used to his new wake-up call. As a year-round teacher, he didn't have to be out of bed and ready at the crack of dawn; camp was another story, because there were always things to do before the actual day began. And so Combeferre (not Mister Combeferre or Sir here, just Combeferre) was inexorably late on that first week.

To make matters worse, his phone had died during the night and now he had to hightail it to the stupid water-saving outdoor shower the headmaster had had installed that winter for camp counsellors. Female staff had theirs on one side of the creek the camp was built around while male staff were on the other side. And okay, the shower wasn't stupid, but Combeferre was in a rush and the water was going to be lukewarm at best, and besides he didn't have caffeine in him yet, so he was allowed to be a bit cranky.

He ground to a halt when he arrived by the sheltered area the stall was hidden in. Only counsellors were allowed back here so Combeferre felt safe enough to start yanking his clothes off outside, dumping them on the log that sat by the stall.

He dug his bar of soap from the depths of his towel and- shrieked a little when he opened the door and saw the stall was already occupied. He chucked the soap at its occupant in surprise. He didn't react much: the bar barely grazed him. He didn't look overly concerned with their mutual nudity either, but that was to be expected of-

“Courf! What are you doing?” Combeferre hissed, his eyes darting everywhere but towards his fellow counsellor's naked body and trying his best to hide the most intimate place on his.

“Um, showering? Surely you saw that one coming, right?” Courfeyrac drawled with a raised eyebrow, gesturing at his soaped-up self, bubbles slowly inching their way down his sun-kissed skin towards his- Combeferre pointedly kept his gaze above his shoulders.

“Didn't you hear me get here? Why didn't you say something?” 

“Well, I was a bit surprised, and I also thought whoever wanted to shower would notice my clothes on the log?”

“What clothes on the-?” Combeferre started, ready to call Courfeyrac's bluff because he definitely hadn't seen clothes next to his, but he stopped short when he noticed the second log on the other side of the stall. He sighed. “You could’ve locked the door…”

A beat of silence and then, “Um, yeah, I suppose that one’s on me.”

Combeferre sighed again and closed his eyes, desperate to rewind the past five minutes so he wouldn't make an ass of himself, but there was nothing to it: he was still naked in front of the man he'd had a crush on for a year, he was still gawking like a simpleton and Courfeyrac was still looking appraisingly at him.

Appraisingly?

Oh God, the image of the both of them naked together was probably carved in Combeferre's mind's eye now. Courfeyrac gave an amused little chuckle, which seemed to be the shock Combeferre needed to come back to his senses. He was just about to close the door on Courfeyrac when he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on gravel.

His eyes shot up to meet Courfeyrac's suddenly wide stare, significantly more panicked than a few minutes earlier, which did nothing to appease Combeferre's racing heartbeat. Caught between a rock and a hard place, he was frozen in place, his overactive brain supplying him with horrific visions of his colleagues finding him buck naked in the wild and calling him 'The Flasher’ for the rest of the summer.

He was almost resigned to his fate, eyes closed because he just couldn't meet the apocalypse head-on, when Courfeyrac's hand closed around his wrist and tugged him into the small booth, backing him against a cold wall and slapping a hand on his mouth to prevent any sound from escaping.

Then he started whistling, of all things, so Combeferre tried to wriggle free, begging him to stop with his eyes. Was he trying to draw attention to them? Courfeyrac kept up the whistling and braced his other hand at the centre of Combeferre's chest. All rational thoughts flew out the window as the two magnificent pools of melted chocolate that were Courfeyrac's eyes bore into him, begging him to remain quiet.

Combeferre could feel the heat that radiated from Courfeyrac's body, his hand a searing brand on his skin, muddling his brain so much he didn't hear the footsteps stop a ways away from the shower stall.

“Oh come on! Here, too? Who's that?”

“Eponine?” Courfeyrac asked with a devilish little grin. Combeferre himself was quite glad to hear a friendly voice instead of some newbie's they would've scarred for life. “Isn't the ladies’ booth on the other side of the creek?”

“Cosette was using that one, I thought this one would be free,” she sighed. “Courf?”

“In the flesh. And nothing else!”

“Are you almost done?” she groaned.

“Not even close: I'm washing my hair.”

It was a blatant lie: Courfeyrac's hair wasn't even wet, his brown curls bouncing around his face, distracting as ever. Combeferre wanted to wind one around his index finger then watch it bounce back. The urge was imperious. And ludicrous.

“Nevermind, this'll take light years,” she sighed. “Cosette will probably be done by the time I get back anyway. Don't forget the kids’ wake-up call is in forty-five minutes and you're on breakfast duty with Chetta,” she added, her voice growing fainter as she retreated.

Combeferre waited until he could no longer hear the scrunch-scrunch of Eponine's shoes on the footpath to allow himself to sag against the wall at his back, Courfeyrac's hand slipping from his mouth and allowing him to breathe again.

“You wanted her to notice you before she came too close,” he stated, chest heaving with relief. He was keenly aware Courfeyrac's hand was still on his chest.

“Yes,” he grinned, brilliant as the sun. Combeferre's stomach did a backflip that brought him back to how very naked and how very close they were. “So, should we… get to it, then?”

“Get to- Get to… it?” Combeferre swallowed convulsively. 

Courfeyrac's gaze wandered down to his neck; his thumb stroked his skin once, sending little sparks all over his body. 

“Showering, I guess?” he offered with a coy look through eyelashes that had no business being this long. His teeth sank into his lower lip, uncertain yet hopeful. “Unless you have something else in mind?”

Combeferre analysed the situation quickly: Courfeyrac hadn't backed off. The stall wasn't that big, but he definitely could have moved one step away if he'd wanted to. It didn't look like he did.

Hoping he wasn't reading too much into things, Combeferre took a minuscule, tentative step forward. The way Courfeyrac beamed at him made the leap of faith worth it; Combeferre swooped down on the shorter man, kissing him with all the pent-up passion of a year old crush even as he tried to keep his grip on Courfeyrac's face gentle.

Courfeyrac had no such qualms and used Combeferre's neck to propel himself closer. He went willingly and gasped when the cooling water on Courfeyrac's body startled him, which Courfeyrac took as an invitation to deepen the kiss. Combeferre welcomed the invasion, finally slipping his hands into the mass of brown curls he'd been dying to touch, fisting it loosely and tugging so that Courfeyrac moaned into his mouth and clawed at his shoulders, most likely leaving indentations Combeferre would wear with pride. 

Having Courfeyrac molded to him was intoxicating, both of their cocks slowly but surely filling up as they pressed against each other, fingertips digging into supple flesh, exploring new territory with abandon and a need that couldn’t be denied any longer.

“I'm all for efficiency and saving water,” a voice interrupted just outside the booth, making them jump apart in surprise, “but I don't think there's a lot of showering going on here.”

“'Aire?” Courfeyrac ventured, breathless.

“Yup,” the voice said smugly. “I'm happy for you guys and all that, but I really need a shower if I'm going to be hiking all day in that godforsaken heat, so could you please take this elsewhere?”

Both of them burst into uncontainable giggles they tried to muffle into the other's shoulder, incapable of keeping their hands off each other; they were just as bad as the teenagers under their care.

“Oh, for the love of- Get out of here, you jerks!” Grantaire cried as he pounded on the stall's door.

“Okay, okay, we'll be out in just a few minutes,” Combeferre tried to placate his friend. “We really do need to shower as well,” he added, pointedly looking into Courfeyrac's eyes.

“Right. A few minutes, 'Aire,” Courfeyrac agreed. “But unless you want to be able to paint us like one of your French girls, I suggest you relocate until we come get you?”

Grantaire pounded on the door once, prompting another fit of giggles, but he left; Combeferre could hear him grumbling under his breath while he started placing teasing kisses up the shell of Courfeyrac's ear.

“We'll never be out in a few minutes. Grantaire's going to murder us and ask the kids to help him bury our bodies.”

“No, no, we're definitely showering,” Combeferre mumbled as he tried to turn on the water and mouth at Courfeyrac's jaw at the same time.

Both of them yelped when the tepid water hit them so they made quick work of the actual shower - Combeferre used Courfeyrac's soap, unable to find where his had skidded off to - but once they were done and Courfeyrac had retrieved both their towels, drying off took a bit longer than expected: it was just… Courfeyrac was there and he could touch him now, so Combeferre didn't have to fight the feeling that begged him to kiss his perfect mouth.

Courfeyrac seemed quite pleased with this turn of events as well, giving as good as he got, grazing his upper lip with a teasing hint of tongue Combeferre kept on chasing and barely missing until he had no choice but to invade Courfeyrac with an open-mouthed kiss and a frustrated growl. Courfeyrac actually had the gall to smile into it, his hips giving a little hitch against his own.

“If you're not out of that shower in two minutes flat, I swear I'm getting a bucket of cold water from the lake to separate you two animals,” Grantaire's voice reached them again.

That did it. Combeferre hated cold water; Courfeyrac needed to set up breakfast for fifty kids. They also needed to talk about… whatever this was going to be (though Combeferre sure hoped Courfeyrac wasn't aiming for a meaningless summer fling), and actual intimacy so they could kiss some more because the kissing really was outstanding.


End file.
